


Expanding One's Horizons

by waywardrose



Series: My Baby Just Cares for Me [1]
Category: Saturday Night Live
Genre: 1950s, Don’t copy to another site, Euphemisms, F/M, No Racism, Old-Fashioned, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Sheltered-artist reader, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 02:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20166787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardrose/pseuds/waywardrose
Summary: “We all need to expand our horizons,” you said as you went to the dining room to turn off the lights.“Indeed we do, my love.”





	Expanding One's Horizons

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: Omg could you do young!Abe eating out his partner for the first time? I presume, given the era, she would be very shy, and Abe would 100% love it, helping her become more comfortable before making her cum over and over 😍
> 
> Oh boy, could I!? 😉 I think I followed your brief pretty well. I think I captured the spirit, in any case. I hope you enjoy it, babe! Thank you for the prompt!

“My love,” Abe said as he closed the front door behind the last of the catering staff. “You were magnificent.”

You waved a dismissive hand. “I didn’t do much.”

“Nonsense! You organized a perfect dinner party. Guests will be talking about it for the next month.”

You silently demurred and felt heat infuse your cheeks. All you had done was organize the party. You’d gotten catering, a caricaturist, a troupe of belly dancers, and a band from the Village to play on the patio. The maid, an absolute sweetheart, had helped you rearrange the double parlor.

There had been a gorgeous feast and dancing and rubbing elbows with Abe’s jolly fellow oilmen. Their wives were friendly, too. You’d been invited to a luncheon next week and a trunk show at Winston’s after that. At the end of the month you were to join the organizing committee for a gala to benefit refugee children.

Abe continued, “No one will doubt our place in the upper echelons now, my dearest! You got them to eat— What was that again?”

“Sushi.”

_“Sushi!_ How novel! My clever wife.”

“And pickled rattlesnake,” you added with a grin.

His smile turned sly. _“And pickled rattlesnake.”_

“We all need to expand our horizons,” you said as you went to the dining room to turn off the lights.

“Indeed we do, my love.”

Abe followed you from room to room, helping you tidy the first floor. The cleaning crew was coming tomorrow, but you couldn’t leave it completely untouched for them. Maybe that was your lower-class upbringing at play. Abe said nothing about your fussing.

Once the first floor was dark, he came up behind you and stopped you with an arm around your middle. He kissed your neck and slowly rocked you from side to side. His other hand smoothed around your ribcage, right under your breasts. It was approaching indecent. However, you forced yourself to relax because he was your loving husband and you adored him.

“I overheard you talking to Delilah Davenport about your sculptures in the backyard,” he led.

“She was surprised I did anything of the sort.”

“Of course, she was. Delilah’s never once gotten her hands dirty. Let alone played with mud.”

“Or concrete.”

“Perish the thought,” he fondly murmured and kissed the exposed expanse of your shoulder.

Your hands were sculptor’s hands. It was one of the first things Abe had noticed about you. In the beginning, you tried to hide them with gloves or the pockets of your skirt. But he’d kissed them and told you how much he loved them. You’d been slathering on lotions in anticipation of tonight, knowing you couldn’t wear gloves during dinner. You’d even gone so far as to get a manicure. Your nails were Revlon’s Cherries in the Snow. You thought the color looked good with your black organza-and-lace cocktail dress.

Somehow, all your hard work disguising your hands was a success. No one suspected you were one of those _bohemian_ artistic types. Well, until you told Delilah Davenport you’d fabricated the three large sculptures in the back. You weren’t ashamed, of course. You just didn’t want your art to affect Abe’s business.

Abe kept kissing and tasting your skin. It made your head spin. He was so demonstrative—more so than any man you’d dated before. His big hands were on the top swells of your hips. Your crinoline crinkled under them as he pulled you tight to his front.

You put your hands over his. “Abe, please, we’re in the foyer.”

“Of our home. Can’t I love my wife in our home?”

“Of course, but—”

“No one can see us. The only light is coming from the street.”

You wanted to tell him how embarrassing it was—being salacious, yearning for your husband—out in the open. You didn’t want to push him away. On the contrary, you wanted to grind back against him. He’d awoken in you such hunger it was distressing. You thought about him when he was gone. You dreamed about when he’d come home and put himself inside you.

He was quiet for a second before saying: “You must be tired.”

It was an out. You could take it, but you didn’t. You turned in his hold and put your hands at the nape of his neck. His unfashionable longer hair hung heavy over your fingers, and his eyes glittered in the murky foyer.

“I’m not tired,” you said.

He outright smirked before swooping in to kiss you. Your lipstick smeared over his lips all waxy and blood red. You pressed yourself against him, feeling the hard lines of him through his suit. His touch was muted through the layers of your dress, but it hardly mattered.

The second his tongue touched yours, you moaned. You sounded wanton and shameless to your ears. Abe cupped your rear and walked you to the wall by the stairs. The plaster was cool against your back while Abe was a living furnace at your front.

You fisted his suit as you dragged a knee up his outer thigh. He made an encouraging noise and pushed his hand under your crinoline. His touch burned all the way up your thigh.

When he reached your underwear, he pulled back looking surprised. “You’re not wearing a girdle.”

“The skirt, it’s so full… I didn’t think it was necessary.”

He hummed, “You little minx. Walking around like this.” He tucked his face under your jaw and kissed your hammering pulse. “So wild.”

“H-hardly,” you gasped. “Keep going.”

He snaked his palm over the garter stay at the side of your thigh and deftly unclipped it. You stiffened then, unsure if you were up to what he had in mind. At least, what you assumed he had in mind.

“Turn around, my love,” he whispered and released your leg.

“But, Abe…”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll take care of you.”

You gazed up at him for a moment. His lips were colored red from your lipstick. Yours were probably in an equally messy state. If you thought it wasn’t going to be obvious what he’d been doing to you, you could see now you were mistaken.

“Go on now,” he encouraged.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to the wall. He lifted your skirt and pulled your hips back. You teetered on your heels, but held yourself upright by spreading feet and clinging to the wall. The weight of the different fabrics rested at the small of your back. He forced his hips against your rear, and his hardness was unmistakeable. It was a warm bulge rocking in the cleft between your legs.

He undid your garter’s other side stay, and your stockings sagged. He palmed your bottom through the silky material of your underwear. You bit your lip and shimmied, because you couldn’t help yourself. His touch was electric.

“That’s it. Let go.”

You whined and arched your back.

His warmth disappeared from your rear. You braced yourself, waiting for him to pull down your underwear and slide inside you. He shifted behind you, and you looked over your shoulder to see him drop to his knees.

_“Abe!”_ You threw your hips towards the wall, and your skirt flopped over his arms. _“What are you doing?”_

“I’m loving you.”

He threw your skirt over his head. His fingers hooked over the waistband of your underwear, dragging it down until it were caught on the still-attached front garter stays.

“So beautiful.” His voice was muffled, and he pulled your rear back.

He was going to kiss you. _There._ He couldn’t do that. You hadn’t bathed since the morning. It was unheard of. It was _dirty._

The first touch of his lips to your nether regions had you squirming to get away.

“Abe, no, please! You can’t!”

His fingers forcibly spread you open. His hot breath flowed over your wetness. It was the only warning you had before his tongue was on you. You cried out in denial and tried to get away. He held you firm and licked you.

Your knees buckled in shock. It was so _crude_, so far beyond _decent_. You couldn’t bear it.

_“I can’t!”_ you yelped. _“Please!”_

Abe pushed your skirts onto your lower back. He shushed you and kissed the crease at the top of your leg. His lips were wet with more than just saliva. You hid your face against your forearm. He must be revolted. You were so wet.

“Was that too much?” he asked.

“It’s _obscene.”_

He straightened and folded himself around you. “If it’s between a husband and wife, it’s not. And I love every inch of you.”

“Can’t we just— Can you just…”

“Fuck you like I always do?”

Your head jerked up, and your eyes got big at his words. He’d never cursed in front of you. And while you knew men were prone to that, and you yourself had used the occasional _damn_ when something went awry, he never used coarse language.

“I’ll give you what you want tonight, but I’m going to taste more of that gorgeous honeypot of yours, my darling wife. And soon.”

It sounded like the most tender threat you’d ever heard. It immobilized you, but it didn’t frighten you. Abe had never hurt you. Even your first time had been gentle and painless. He had touched you between your legs, massaging and stroking until you reached climax.

It had been a revelation. Oh, you’d heard about men getting their rocks off, but never women. Afterwards, Abe became determined in his pursuit of your satisfaction. When he had time, he made love with you and took his time giving you pleasure.

The sound of a zipper brought you back into the moment. You knew what that meant. You arched your back once more, eager to have him in you. This was what you needed: him inside you.

There were fabric sounds and then you felt the heat, the heft of his manhood thud against your rear. You bit your bottom lip, tasting waxy lipstick, to keep yourself from whining for him. His warm hands fondled your rear as he rubbed against you.

“Do you want my cock, my love?”

Your ears burned at his vulgarity. “Yes,” you mumbled.

“Say it.”

“I want— I want your…” You squeezed your eyes closed. _“Iwantyourcock.”_

“Please, again. You know how I love your voice.”

“Abe, please don’t make me say it.”

“If you don’t state what you want—” He rocked against you, his manhood sliding in the cleft of your rear. “—I certainly can’t give it to you.”

_“Abe!”_

He rocked your bodies together in mimicry of what you wanted. His hands gripped your hips. You wanted him to slide them around you and touch between your legs. You were almost aching now, beyond all logical thought.

He leaned his chest against your back to whisper, “Tell me what you need, darling.”

“I need it—you.”

“What’s ‘it’?”

“You—your… _You know.”_

“My dick?”

You nodded.

He pulled away, and you felt the tip of him ease down your body. He prodded your entrance with it, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted him all the way inside you, filling you up, making you feel loved.

You whined then, because ecstasy was this close. He grip tightened and controlled you.

“Say it,” he ordered and rocked the crown of his manhood against you.

“I want it, Abe, _please!_ Give it to me!”

He only tsked.

You shook your head because you couldn’t say it. Ladies didn’t say _that_. You were supposed to be a lady. That’s what Abe wanted, right? He wanted a lady to assist him in society. You wore fancy dresses and went to garden parties because that was your duty. You were never rude or indelicate. You didn’t allow your hobby to interfere with his work. Because you were a lady.

“Dearest, you’re hurting us both.” He was against your back again. “Don’t you want me? Don’t you want me to _fuck_ you with my hard _cock?”_

“I do!”

“Then you must tell me.”

You swooned against the wall and sobbed, “I want your cock!”

Like a present, he pushed inside you. He gave you that feeling once more: of fullness, of love. He took you hard. The lewd, sloppy sounds of your bodies coming together measured out the seconds.

You pressed your cheek to the wall and braced yourself. His thrusts were getting wilder, harder. His harsh breathing echoed in your ear, you could feel it on your bare shoulder.

And then Abe snaked a hand to your front. His fingers went between your legs and stroked your sensitive, wet flesh. The flash of pleasure bloomed low in your belly. You whined and locked your legs. He lovingly shushed you and told you he’d take care of you. It was easy to trust him when he was making you feel so good.

That tight, squirmy feeling increased as he thrust inside you and caressed you. You turned your knees inward and rocked with his movements. It didn’t matter what you two looked like as long as he kept going.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he groaned.

You nodded before feeling your lower half start to strain around him. Abe’s manhood—_his cock_—felt bigger as he took you with powerful, bone-jarring thrusts. It was as though he was working your bodies towards a precipice you couldn’t see. You knew what it meant. You knew you were approaching climax.

He rolled his clever, strong fingers harder against you, which had you gasping. You clawed at the wall because you couldn’t escape it. You didn’t want to, either.

He stroked you one more time, and that was all you needed. You keened as you crested that sharp pinnacle. Your body throbbed in a devastating rhythm, your ears rang, you lost all sense of decorum. He held you tight through it and kissed you—never letting you go.

The slap of his hands on the wall had you opening your eyes. He raggedly drove into you once, twice, three more times before you felt him seize behind you. He groaned against your shoulder. The hot flood of his milky love filled you until it overflowed and dripped onto your underwear.

As Abe pulled out of your pounding body, you wilted—enfeebled and overcome by his passions. He caught you against him and briskly swept you into his arms. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, feeling as weak as a kitten.

He tenderly smiled at you. “My sweet wife.” 

* * *

Abe didn’t bring up the afterparty sex. It had been days. He missed two dinners by staying late at the office, in the meantime. He’d been collapsing in bed every evening. There had been the barest of conversations.

Perhaps you’d done something wrong.

You wanted to talk to someone about married relations. Abe had said what happened between husband and wife wasn’t obscene. And you didn’t want to disappoint him. After all, you were the chief factor in your husband’s happiness. It was your job to foster a good marriage. At least, that’s what you’d read in _Good Housekeeping_ and _Ladies Home Journal_.

What he’d done wasn’t terrible, either. It hadn’t felt bad. You couldn’t figure out why he wanted to lick you _down there_. That gave you pause. You wondered if he wanted you to put your mouth on his… _cock._

You let out a sigh. His _cock, dick, erection, genitals, pecker. **Weiner.**_

You laughed at yourself and headed to your studio at the back of the house. You had on your work clothes and your hair up. Since Abe wasn’t home, you didn’t have to worry about being pretty. You were in the middle of sculpting the relief for a smaller, two-part project—each sculpture being only two feet tall. The pair was in the Cubist style and inspired by a cardinal couple who’d taken residence in the ginkgo in the garden.

You were working on perfecting the seed the male had in his beak when you heard the front door bang open and shut. You cleaned your hands off on a rag and poked your head into the hallway. There were heavy footsteps that sounded like they stomped into the dining room. You thought you recognized that gait.

You gave your hands another wipe and stepped out of your studio. Before you’d even made it to the stairs, Abe bellowed for you. He sounded irate, but his anger couldn’t be about you. You breathed deep as you smoothed back your hair and straightened your clay-smeared smock.

There was no point in dolling up. You didn’t have the time, anyway.

Abe was indeed in the dining room, empty crystal tumbler in hand. His tie was loose, and his navy-blue suit jacket was tossed over one of the chairs. There was a strained look on his face as he stared out the Palladian window.

He fully turned to you with eyes like dark flames and held out his free hand. You rubbed your palms on a clean bit of your smock as you approached. He gently took your hand in both of his.

“Is everything alright?” you asked.

“Yes, of course, my love. The wells are deep, profits are up. The board is still an itchy sweater I yearn to shred.”

You shared a grin. “So business as usual.”

“More or less—which is why I left after the morning meeting.”

“Well, it’s good to have you home. Would you like something to eat?”

His look turned lascivious, and he drew you closer. “I would.”

“Abe, I’m covered in clay,” you reasoned and put a hand on his chest to keep your distance. You didn’t want to ruin one of his suits with mud.

“Then why don’t you go clean yourself up for me.”

You knew what he meant. “In the middle of the day?”

Was that even _done_ outside of the honeymoon? It seemed so imprudent to indulge in sex. There was work to do and meals to plan and calls to make.

He put a knuckle under your chin to tilt your head up. You gazed into his honey-brown eyes, seeing affection and full-out lust. You realized you’d missed his kisses. He hadn’t kissed you in days. Yes, it was because of work, but some small part of you feared you’d pushed him away.

He moved in and kissed you, putting his all into it. He tasted like bourbon. You surrendered to him and held his cheek. His lips were so soft yet strong. His kisses made you forget yourself.

When he pulled away, his eyes were so dark.

“Indulge your husband,” he urged.

You nodded, speechless, as you wet your bottom lip. You stepped back, hurrying to the master suite. You turned on a bedside lamp, closed the heavy drapes, and shed your clothes in the hamper in the closet. You rearranged your hair in a more pleasing updo and showered thoroughly, moisturizing all over afterwards. You applied the barest amount of Vol de Nuit to your pulse points and slipped on a pink silk dressing gown. You briefly debated with yourself about makeup, but Abe liked you fresh-faced, so you opted to forego it.

The bedroom was aglow in golden amber light. The gilded crystal chandelier above the bed sparkled, and the peach-toned walls were mellow. All this lovely light gave you confidence you looked as pleasing as possible.

You padded across the huge Persian rug and sat at the edge of the bed. You’d barely settled the folds of your robe around you when Abe knocked once and came in. He stared at you as he blindly locked the door behind him.

He threw his suit jacket on the chaise in the corner as he came to you and got on his knees when he was close. He put his hands on your thighs and leaned up to offer a kiss. You cradled his face in your palms and kissed him. He deepened the kiss almost immediately. His tongue teased yours, and he sucked on your lip. It was like he was trying to pull some ineffable something, some essence, of you inside him.

He parted the lower folds of your dressing gown and slid his hands up your outer thighs. When he reached your bare bottom, he pulled you closer to the edge. You broke the kiss to ask him what he was doing.

“I’m going to love every part of you, my darling.”

You smiled. “Then get on the bed with me.”

“You misunderstand.” He parted your knees and installed himself between them. “I’m going to taste you _everywhere.”_

He wanted to try… what he’d begun after the party. “That’s not— You don’t have to.”

“I’m going to savor your pussy.”

Your face blazed. _“Abe!”_

“I’m going to lick that sweet pussy of yours and finger you. I’m going to make you come, my love.”

You ducked your head and tried to scoot back, but his hold was unyielding. No one had ever talked like that to you. You didn’t know how to feel. There was a part of you that was mortified by his language and another was all agog to understand. Because Abe had only ever given you pleasure.

What if this was just another way to please?

He loosened the sash of your dressing gown. “Will you indulge me again?”

You looked into his eyes, saw his love. His cheeks were flushed. He appeared to want this. And you had just bathed, you mentally pointed out. You were clean and scented. The worst that could happen was that he discovered he didn’t like it. Then you could go back to making love like you had.

You nodded and kissed him again. He groaned as he tugged open your gown. His hands massaged your hips, pulling you closer. Kissing down your jaw and neck, he cupped your breasts. His hands were so big and hot on your skin. His thumbs haloed your nipples until they hardened.

He glanced up at you. “What a feast you are, my darling,” he softly said before kissing and nipping at your breasts.

His sharp teeth grazed your nipples, sending a pleasured shiver down your spine. He pulled at them, which had you gasping and holding the hair at the back of his head. He mouthed at the undersides of your breasts and kissed your sternum.

Slowly, he lowered your upper body to the bed. He left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your torso. His hands smoothed over your sides before he straightened.

You watched him undo his cufflinks, ruck up his sleeves, and release the knot in his tie. You became aware of how naked you were. You stretched out before him, the only part of you covered were your arms. He threw his tie to the side and undid the first couple of buttons of his crisp white shirt.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting this.”

He bent to kiss your belly as he caressed your thighs. You put your hands on his shoulders and closed your eyes. If it kept like this, you’d be delighted.

Abe spread your legs and moved lower. You held your breath, waiting for him to do something. The first touch of his lips to your inner thigh made you twitch. His kisses were delicate, almost teasing. Your lower half clenched reflexively.

His warm hands skimmed between your legs and covered the apex. You bit your lip and fisted the heavy silk on either side of you. He pulled you open and groaned. You replied with a questioning sound and looked down your body at him. You felt so exposed despite the cooler air being a titillating sensation.

“Beautiful,” he growled and buried his face between your legs.

You moaned in shock at the slippery feel of his tongue. It felt interesting and _good_. He lapped over an extra sensitive part, and your hips jerked. That was more than good. That had to be what he stroked to make you climax. He traced lines with the tip of his tongue before pushing it inside you. It made you hungry to be filled by his manhood. It seemed to open you more for him, too, as he licked up your body again.

“How is that, darling? Do you like it?”

You nodded and angled your hips to him.

“Do you want me to continue?”

“Yes, please.”

“Where do you want me to kiss you?”

“B-between my legs?” you offered.

He kissed the hair there. “You want me lick _your pussy_ some more?”

Again, you nodded.

“Please instruct me, dearest.”

“Li— Lick…” You squeezed your eyes close. You couldn’t say it, though you wanted him to continue.

He waited, ever patient. You could feel his breath on your wet… _pussy._

“Lick my pussy,” you whispered.

Abe had mercy and did just that. He kissed and licked and sucked at your pussy. He found that sensitive part again and put his mouth over it. He rhythmically sucked at it, and you cried out in unexpected pleasure. He pushed your legs out and up, pinning you to the edge of the bed.

He was relentless. He was pushing your body to climax. You couldn’t slow it down. You couldn’t catch your breath.

You reached for him, you hands landing on the back of his head. He moaned and sucked harder. You almost convulsed right off the bed at that. Your whole body was starting to quiver and tense. It was the best you’d ever felt during sex.

_“Oh God!”_ you wailed as that quivering morphed into throbbing ecstasy.

You threw your head back as you drowned in the sheer satisfaction your husband was giving you. It was more than just the fluttering of a typical climax, it was a surge of bliss. Your pussy thrummed, and your head swam. You could feel your heartbeat all the way down to your toes.

Abe eased off and gently kissed the tender folds of your pussy. You didn’t know what to say as you let him go. You’d been so wrong. Or at least partially wrong. It might be obscene, but it felt _wonderful._

“Did you like that?” he asked.

You nodded and wet your dry throat.

“Would you like to continue?”

“Continue?”

In silent reply, he eased a finger inside you. Your breath caught—it felt bigger than it usually did. Maybe you were oversensitive now. And your pussy was so wet, you feared you were dripping onto the rug.

“Just relax, my love.”

You took a deep breath and unclenched your hips and legs. He hummed in approval while edging his finger in and out. This you were familiar with. This felt like sex. It made you want _his cock._

“Abraham…” you whined.

He lowly shushed you. “How about another?”

You gasped when two fingers began pumping inside you. The squelch of it was so unmistakably carnal.

“Your sweet pussy’s so hot and wet around my fingers,” he crooned.

Your cheeks heated anew, and you covered your face with a hand. He bent over your leg, pulled your hand to the side, and kissed the palm. You held his face and tried not to be ashamed. He was doing this with you.

“I love it,” he proclaimed, and you could smell yourself on him. “I love _you.”_

You gnawed your lip before giving him a minute nod. It felt good. _He _felt good. “I love you, too.”

“Shall I continue?”

“Yes, please.”

He sunk back onto the floor and kissed your inner thigh again, telling you to remain spread for him. He kept easing his fingers inside you as deep as he could. With his other hand he spread your pussy. Before you could ask what he was doing, his tongue was back on you.

You moaned as he swirled his tongue over your pussy. Your hands went back to his hair. You had to anchor yourself some way. He focused once more on that sensitive bundle of nerves.

At first, he lapped at it like he was coaxing it. He pressed at the walls of your pussy as he pushed his fingers deep. Then he found some primal, perfect rhythm between his fingers and tongue.

Your mouth opened in shock, and you squealed, “There!”

You hadn’t meant to demand. It just happened. Abe didn’t stop to reprimand, though. He sucked at you again, and it was just this side of too much. His fingers plunged in with every pull. He was unflagging as he took you again and again with mouth and hand.

There was no quivering this time. Your body didn’t have time. You went from a tense shiver to total convulsions. Your pussy was clenching around his fingers. You couldn’t stop the noises you were making. Everything was heat and urgency and unabating furious rapture.

Abe pushed you to the brink, pushed you until you were thrashing under him. Your heels thumped against his shoulderblades. It was too much. There were tears rolling down your temples and wetting your hair, pooling in your ears. You cried in protest because you couldn’t survive much more.

He kissed your trembling pussy one last time before resting his head on your thigh. His fingers stilled inside you, but didn’t pull out. Somehow, that made it easier to calm, though you secretly wished it was his cock instead.

You panted and spread your hands over the bed as you let your other leg flop down. You stared up in shock at the ornamental plaster work on the ceiling. You couldn’t believe your body had pulled through that. Because that had been more than a climax. You didn’t know _what_ that had been.

You looked down at Abe and gave him a smile when he met your gaze. That had been astounding and alarming at times, but wonderful.

His eyes twinkled as he asked, “Shall we continue?”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://the-wayward-rose.tumblr.com)


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